


The Trouble With Asking For Help

by ZombieReine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieReine/pseuds/ZombieReine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger is stuck in a strange world full of singing ponies, battles between mythical creatures and a King that might just make her lose her head. Hermione/Tom (Who is for the most part referred to as Voldemort). Written for TwistedTale for the Tomione Convention Forum Spring Fic Exchange. Beta'd by GoldenRice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble With Asking For Help

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwistedTale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedTale/gifts), [Tomione_Forum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomione_Forum/gifts).



> If you want an actual well-thought out storyline where everyone is completely IC don't look for it here. If you want to read something that makes perfect sense, leave now. If you want bad gratuitous smut. . . Don't read the version on FF.net. If you, however, don't have a problem with any of the aforementioned things read on.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of Death, Badly Written Smut, Badly Written Fanfiction in General, DubCon

"What are you doing?" Hermione stared at the ponies before her, watching them as they ran about frantically using paintbrushes to drench a bunch of rather large red snakes with green paint.

"Why, we're painting the red snakes green." The light orange one answered, with a drawling accent Hermione recognized as from the States.

"Painting the snakes green." A blue one with wings agreed, speeding around faster than Hermione thought was possible, her brush nothing more than a green blur.

"But why?" Hermione studied the hissing creatures, wondering what could possibly be wrong with them or warrant such odd behavior, maybe it was a custom here. Either way it didn't seem very humane, who knew what all those paint fumes could do to the poor creatures.

They all stopped, staring at her and going pale, especially the purple one. With a cautious look around her the purple unicorn spoke, "The king wanted green snakes but they delivered red ones. He detests the color red. If he sees even a speck of red on his new precious snakes I'll be drained for His Majesties' consumption." She used the brush to make a slicing motion across her neck for emphasis.

"That's disgusting!" Hermione's face mimicked her statement, what kind of person would drain ponies of their blood and drink it. . .

"That's King Voldemort for you." It was the yellow one who spoke, her voice so quiet Hermione had a hard time hearing her, "Everything is his way if you want to keep your head."

"And he doesn't like parties." The last of the lot, a pink one, was dejected as she said this, "Last time we tried was when. . . Rarity." Her eyes watered a bit and she wiped them with a hoof, unable to continue on about what happened whoever this Rarity was.

"I'm sorry," Hermione soothed, unsure what she was saying sorry for. She fidgeted a tad, smoothing down her skirt and biting her lip, wondering if it would be insensitive to ask her question now. Before she could decide the quiet one spoke up again.

"It's because she said the D word." The yellow filly's wings were drooping, her large teal eyes glancing around as if to make sure they were indeed alone, "He would have considered pardoning her if she hadn't of brought up the old monarch of Hogwarts."

"You mean Dumbledore?" Hermione vaguely remembered a giant caterpillar talking about the old king, and his valiant knights.

"If you don't mind we're very busy fillies." The blue one spoke up again, abrupt but not unkind, "If there's nothing else can you leave us to our work?"

"I do want to ask one more question, I was wondering, if any of you might know how I could return to England." Hermione honestly just hoped that they would know what England was and maybe have a clue as to how to help her, and if they couldn't, maybe they'd know someone else who might.

"No, sorry." The orange one's voice shook a bit, "But the King would know."

"Yes, the King." The purple one looked towards the castle, "He's in the Audience Chamber now I would guess, but be warned. He has a volatile temper, if he can help you it doesn't mean he will- and if he does. . . It doesn't mean you will like it, or the price you'll have to pay. You're as likely to lose your head than find a way home."

"Thank you." The young woman replied kindly, "I wish you luck."

"And to you." Was her reply as the five went back to painting the writhing mass of wet green and red snakes with renewed vigor.

The palace wasn't far away, and though it was grand and large, finding the audience chamber was quite easy in itself if you weren't afraid to ask for directions- which Hermione wasn't. What she was more afraid of was the person waiting for her on the other side, the ponies out front weren't the first citizens of this place to tell her that the king was a psychotic tyrant. They hadn't told her that in those exact words but she was capable of putting two and two together.

In front of the audience chamber was an older woman wearing a tightly corseted court dress with wild black hair and a crazed look in her heavily lidded eyes, "Are you here to see the King?" Her tone was cold and quite formal, her stance was that of someone used to fighting and prepared to strike at the smallest provocation.

"Yes, I have a request to beg of him." She said, trying to be polite and equally formal, lest the woman decide Hermione was a threat.

"To petition the King first you must prove yourself worthy." The woman showed a mouth full of rotting teeth as she smiled a bit too gleefully for Hermione's taste, "With a battle."

"Battle?" Yes, definitely too gleeful, Hermione mused, wondering exactly what kind of battle they were talking about here. She was neither particularly strong nor good at strategy games. Learning facts was easy, planning ahead was easy, but predicting your opponent's moves on a checkered battlefield proved to be more difficult than she could imagine.

"Yes, we each pick a creature to fight for us and we'll command it to do your bidding. Whichever creature in unable to battle first loses." She snapped her fingers and a large snake made its way into the room, where it came from Hermione had no idea.

"I see." Hermione said, not really seeing. She was still too busy staring at the giant snake hissing in front of her, she didn't even catch the large bird flying in until it landed on her shoulder.

"A bird? This will be over sooner than I thought." The older woman cackled, pointing her finger at Hermione and the reddish gold bird sitting on her shoulder, "Use leer!"

The snake stared at them both, its large yellow gaze trying to catch Hermione but on an instinctual level she knew to avoid it. There had to be a reason why this woman wanted the snake to stare at her. She called it a creature earlier, though, didn't she? She wracked her mind for anything about large snakes and vaguely remembered a myth about the basilisk. Giant serpent, can kill someone with a single stare. Sounded like a safe bet in this world.

"Bird," She sounded apologetic for not knowing its name, "Use peck! Get rid of its eyes."

The bird let out a melodic reply and took off, its large powerful wings beating as it sped towards what she assumed to be a basilisk. While the snake tried to catch the birds eye or bite it at the command of the dark haired woman, it managed to dodge and attack with awe inspiring accuracy, leaving the serpent blind.

"Good job!" She called out in triumph, certain that would end the battle but she was wrong. The snake managed to lash its tail out and know the bird into a wall, causing it to cry out. Worried, she ran towards it to make sure it was okay, "I'm sorry."

"Pathetic." Her opponent sounded smug as she looked down on the brunette and twitched her head in the direction of the basilisk, "You'll make her a nice snack."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and patted the bird on the head, "Attack the woman."

With a loud cooing noise, the bird once more took off, albeit a bit more slow, and used its large talons to claw at the womans torso as its beak pecked at her head. Screams could be heard and Hermione felt her stomach clench in disgust, "Please, stop."

The bird did, thank goodness, she regretted siccing the creature on the woman, even if she was a vile thing.

"You may enter." The woman panted, blood trickling down her face as she tapped at the door. To Hermione's relief it immediately opened, revealing a room so large it could easily fit her parents' two story house three times over. The décor consisted of tapestries depicting gruesome scenes over gray stone. With only torches along the walls providing light and heat there was a chill in the air, and it didn't help that dark colors seemed to be the fashion, causing what flickering shadows there were to seem more sinister and larger than they would if bright color had been added to the room.

Walking forward Hermione's brown eyes scanned the people, taking note of expression and emotion depicted on each one: there were carefully schooled blank faces, not so carefully schooled ones full of fear, some showed excitement, greed or even a vicious hatred that shocked Hermione and left her wishing she was anywhere but here. It was a dark place filled with dark people and the darkest one of all was sitting on what could only be an uncomfortable throne carved from stone in the shape of a giant skull with a large snake crawling through its eyes and out its mouth.

"And who has come to petition?" The richly dressed man asked, dark blue eyes staring down at her from a handsome face.

"Hermione Granger." She felt a little unsure of herself, she had expected someone ugly and cruel, vicious and blood thirsty. Yet, in front of her, was a handsome man who couldn't have been much older than her, perhaps twenty-seven.

She saw his eyes narrow and knew she had done something wrong already; perhaps she was supposed to kneel? It might be too late for that though, nervously she found herself licking her lips before offering a late curtsy and a quick, 'Your Majesty' hoping that this would be adequate for whatever customs they held here.

He must have been somewhat placated because after her curtsy he spoke again.

"Hermione Granger, you have exactly one minute to tell me your request, if I find what you have to say to be a waste of time or if you exceed a minute then the penalty will be your head. Do begin." And there was the King she had expected to see, hard with a hint of crazy and bloodlust.

"I need your help to return home." Hermione decided that the direct approach would be for the best, not that there was really much else to say.

"I don't help simpletons who get lost find their way back home to their hovels, take your problems somewhere else before I decide to relieve you of your problem personally." His attention began to leave her, once more appearing as bored as when she had first walked in.

"Your Majesty, please, you misunderstand." It was really taking all of Hermione's resolve to remain polite, if he was the king of this place he should act like it by helping his subjects. Not that Hermione was his subject, but he obviously didn't know that, "I don't belong here. This world, or universe, whatever this place is."

"You're from Upland?" His eyes snapped back to her, studying her with such ferocious intent that she felt extremely uncomfortable, vividly aware of how disheveled she looked compared to him.

"England, to be exact, your Grace, and I really need to go back to it." The question was out there, and it hung heavily in the air. With all her heart she hoped he would say yes, help her return to her home and away from this place of madness.

"No, the truth is you want to go back. I'm the one who tells people down here what they need." The King sounded amused, sitting up in his throne and leaning forward a bit, "I'm the King after all and my way is the only way."

"Pardon, but you're wrong. You can't just decide on what people need. You may be the King but that's all you are, the one who governs them not the one who controls them." Almost immediately she regretted saying that aloud, but enough was enough. The man was positively a tyrannical dictator who viewed his people as toy to play with.

"Interesting," Once more his countenance changed, his emotions and attitude changed almost too quickly for Hermione to even keep up, "What if I told you I do know a way to bring you back to your world, but for a price."

"I would tell you that I don't have any money." She deadpanned, not liking where this way going.

"Yes, but you do have your body." He teased, almost viciously, "And it's not really even that bad of a body." For the first time Hermione could hear small sniggers and chuckles coming from the courtiers at her expense.

"I decline." She said coolly, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed firmly together, "Name a more reasonable price."

"You want to go home, that's my final offer. Otherwise, you can leave now, but if you do, my offer ends and you'll just be stuck here." His smile was anything but kind or welcoming, "I do hope you leave, I think we could have lots of fun together in the future."

"Please." Hermione, in her lifetime, had never once begged for anything. She had cajoled, threatened, bossed and even bribed- but never begged. However, this one time, her voice held a note of pleading, the anger and dislike was still there but hidden under a thick layer of desperation.

"You can leave now." He was dismissive, his attention leaving her for the second time. Would he really leave her trapped her? Yes. This was not a kind man, but a selfish and sadistic one. He would probably enjoy nothing more than making the rest of her life here miserable for turning him down.

"Wait, if I do this you'll help me return to England?" She wanted the situation clarified before she even uttered anything that sounded like an agreement.

"I keep my word." He confirmed, "As long as the other party keeps theirs."

"Immediately." She pressed on, making sure he wouldn't attempt to tell her that they never agreed on when he would return her.

"Within a day." The king promised.

"Fine then." She sealed her fate, deciding that the good outweighed the bad in a situation like this. It wasn't like she was a virgin or afraid of sex, it was just the idea of this man bribing her into it irked her to no end. Hermione would just have to look at it as a bothersome but necessary business transaction.

"Perfect, Wormtail. show her to my chambers." He commanded.

Yes, Your Majesty." The balding man in question sprung immediately to action, his rather large and short body shaking with terror as he led Hermione from the room. Neither of them spoke to each other as he guided her towards his master's chambers. The only words he spoke were a fearful, 'Here you are' before scurrying off once more.

"I don't like you." Were the first words to leave Hermione's lips when his royal pain-in-the-ass finally showed up hours later.

"Fortunately for you, you don't have to like me to fuck me." His crude words left Hermione blanching in shock and disgust, she was never one for using vulgarities and to hear them come from someone who should at least be refined considering his status was a shock. She didn't even know this weird land of impossibilities and almost medieval storybook appearance had such modern terms in its vocabulary.

"You're right, it's more of a preference than a possibility." She got over her shock, noting that he seemed pleased by his ability to throw her off and ruin the calm demeanor she had been intent on trying to keep.

"Here, everything is possible." He disagreed, already removing his clothing with no scruples at showing his body off to a complete stranger. It didn't take long for Hermione to notice why, with his tall, lean shape and lightly toned physique he was actually quite attractive. It left Hermione feeling more than a little self-conscious of her own shorter and average build that only just managed to be what some might consider attractively rounded from years of studying and reading instead of engaging in athletic activities.

"I find that improbable." Her voice came out slightly higher than normal and her eyes were steadily positioned on the wall behind him.

"Do you?" He was smirking at her while advancing, "And why is that?"

"Because anyone capable of grasping the basic fundamentals of what is logical would instinctively know that everything has limits and it's improbable that everything can be possible." Hermione was moving away from him, unintentionally allowing him to trap her against a hard wall, the chill of the castle seeping through her dress.

"Logic, while a necessary attribute, is only healthy in certain dosages. Take too little and you'll be useless, take too much and you become trapped within the cage of reason, unable to realize your full potential and seize opportunity. You'll be intelligent, yes, but you'll never be able to see beyond basic intelligence," His hand reached up to cup her face, forcing her to look at him, "Creativity with a small pinch of madness, my dear girl, is just as important as your precious logic."

"I knew it." She murmured, feeling the heat of his skin against her own, "You're absolutely, unequivocally insane. Not just you, either, this whole place is devoid of any sense."

"Who determines what is sensible?" He countered, his other hand coming up to cup the other side of her face, holding her more firmly in place than before, "The same people who decide what is moral? Or perhaps the ones who choose what is logical? Or sane?"

Chuckling he leaned forward until their lips nearly brushed, Hermione could feel her heart pounding against the body pressed against her own and prayed that he couldn't feel how much he affected her. The wicked look on his face, however, stated that he probably did and that he enjoyed being the one who was making her blood race.

"No one person decides. It's a natural instinct that human beings are born with." She was nervous and her mouth felt like she had tried to swallow cotton, "Most human beings."

The last part was added for his benefit since she didn't consider him to be a normal human, in fact Hermione was well on her way to believing that he might be a Psychopath, or perhaps just Psychotic. She wasn't quite sure which one he would fall under since she refrained from taking any more than the required level of psychology at her old University.

"It's not a naturally born instinct, most children are born selfish and greedy without any knowledge of right or wrong. They do what they want and they have no real inhibitions. It's not until their parents and society teaches them what is good and what is evil that they start to separate sense from nonsense, madness from sanity, logic from irrationality." He smirked, the movement causing his lips to finally touch her own.

When Hermione opened her mouth to reply all thought process left her along with the ability to speak as his lips quieted whatever it was she was going to say. As his mouth pressed firmly against her own she lost the ability to even care about whatever it was they were talking about, surely if it was important they could just continue later. Later would be good.

A hand reached out and the sound of tearing fabric filled the near silent chamber as the top of Hermione's periwinkle blue dress was ripped down to fall about her waist exposing her torso to the close scrutiny of the man before her. 

What he saw seemed to please him immensely as he leaned down, his warm mouth closing over a hardened nipple, drawing it in and laving it with a tongue as teeth gently tugged and lips played with her sensitive breasts, giving each one his generous attention as his hands stroked the smooth skin of her back. 

When Voldemort gave a particularly hard bite Hermione gasped out in pain, her fingers tightened their grip in his hair and gave a sharp tug in an attempt to pull him away but the man wouldn't budge an inch from the reddening, swollen nipples. 

Instead one of his hands found their way under the bunched fabric of her skirt and went straight for her cunt, his fingers teasing her with slow, tickling caresses before his thumb found its way to her clit, pressing down on it and practically petting it in a slow flicking motion as he continued to assault her with his mouth. 

The unaccustomed mixture of pain and pleasure threw Hermione off and she found herself growing more aroused and enjoying the feel of his painful ministrations because it meant that soon he would make his way back to that on spot again and it felt so incredibly good when he managed to touch her in just the right way . 

Voldemort found himself fully satisfied with his handiwork as he unlatched himself from the panting girl below him, her hips shaking from the need for release he refused to give her. With a smirk he pressed his hand against her cunt, inserting a finger and finding her more than ready for him. 

“Who knew you would turn out to be such a filthy little slut.” he murmured, showing her the proof with his slick digit. 

Hermione opened her mouth to respond and was met rudely with the insertion of his finger being shoved inside her mouth, “Suck.” 

Her eyes darkened with a mixture of lust and anger as she obeyed him, her mouth drawing him further in as her tongue pressed against the long digit and pulling it deeper within, never once looking away from him as she tasted herself.  
More than pleased with her little performance and with his cock more than uncomfortable from waiting so long he pushed her back against the wall, drawing her legs up around his waist with her hips positioned before his own. 

The first stroke as Voldemort entered her was slow as he was merciful enough to let her adjust to his sizable girth, the second one was much harder and he felt a mild sense of surprise when she met his rough strokes with her own. Both of them were breathing heavily as he took her against the cold stone. Nails dug into skin as both held onto each other tightly, their bodies moving in a frenzy of mutual building pleasure and a desire that would last throughout most of the night. 

Afterward Hermione would like to say that she was completely against everything that trespassed that night, that she didn't enjoy it one bit. She would like to say that it was nothing more than a means to her end and that when she woke up the next morning feeling sore it wasn't a pleasant ache.

However, as much as she would like to say and mean those things she couldn't. She could lie to everyone else in the world if she wanted to, and probably get away with it for the most part, but Hermione couldn't lie to herself and the simple fact was that she enjoyed it. Very much so.

"You promised to take me home." Her voice was scratchy from sleep but she was perfectly awake and in charge of her senses, she almost wished she wasn't such an early bird because sleep might dull the strange sensations that she felt when she saw him barely covered in just a sheet, reminding her of activities they had done on top of that sheet.

"Want to leave so soon?" He asked innocently, looking at her pointedly, "We could try for one more round before you do."

"I'll pass." Her face was beginning to heat up and Hermione cursed herself, hoping it wasn't as red as it felt. He had noticed her staring.

"Suit yourself." He shrugged before standing up and walking towards a desk pushed up against the wall of this chambers, on it was a vial full of bright green liquid, "Just drink this and think of home, it'll take you straight there."

"That's it?" She asked with a mixture of surprise and disbelief, "That is going to be able to take me home?"

"Do we need to talk about the pitfalls of logic again or will you just accept that not everything can be explained or understood with reason?" He tapped the vial with a finger, "I personally liked what followed our last conversation."

"No, thank you." She stood up from the bed, wrapped in the sheet, and hurried to snatch up her clothing, or what was left of it, and put it on. When Hermione was clothed and resisted the urge to glance at him and uncorked the vial, drinking down the green liquid as she thought of the familiar comforts of home and the people who waited for her.

It's a shame she didn't look up one last time, perhaps if she had, she would have noticed the look on Voldemort's face. The one that promised they would see each other again.

After all, the price to return home was her body- there was never any mention of him having to give it up.

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just add that Voldemort isn't happy that Hermione referred to his glorious sexual technique as a mere "bothersome but necessary business transaction". Hermione would also like to remind him that he is a jerkface and his "glorious sexual technique" leaves much to be desired.


End file.
